Landfall

The Stars Like Sand

The Stars Like Sand: Australian Speculative Poetry is a well-reviewed 2014 anthology of Australian science fiction, fantasy and horror poetry that I co-edited with P. S. Cottier. You can buy The Stars Like Sand from Amazon.com as a paperback or Kindle ebook.

Men Briefly Explained

Men Briefly Explained is my 2011 poetry collection that explains men, briefly. You can buy Men Briefly Explained from Amazon.com as a paperback or Kindle ebook.

My Library from LibraryThing

About Me

I'm a writer, editor, anthologist, and now blogger who was born in Grimsby, Lincolnshire, England and moved to New Zealand with my family when I was 2.
I grew up on the West Coast and in Southland, then went to Dunedin to go to Otago University before moving to Wellington in 1993. I'm married with one child.
I'm juggling the writing of poetry, short fiction and novels, working part time, trying to be a good husband and father, and working hard to get New Zealand to take effective action on climate change - not to mention all the other problems the world faces. Life is busy!

Credit note: The name of this poem is actually "For the picture, 'The Last of England'". Ford Madox Brown wrote it in 1855 to accompany his famous painting. It exists in a couple of versions; this version hangs in the Birmingham (UK) Museum and Art Gallery.

Tim says: Ford Madox Brown began work on this painting in 1852, when emigration from the UK was at its height - according to Wikipedia, over 350,000 people emigrated that year, from a country whose population is much smaller than it is now.

I have this painting as a black and white illustration in a book, and had always imagined that the couple in the foreground (modelled by Ford Madox Ford and his wife Emma; their children also appear in the picture) were staring back at England. In fact, the white cliffs of Dover are in the top right of the picture, and the couple are looking resolutely away. When my family and I sailed out of the English channel in 1961 on our way to New Zealand with a boatload of assisted immigrants, I imagine the emotions felt by the adults on board may have been somewhat similar.

12 March 2013

Don't try to sell your story. That would only remind the public
of the millions in bonuses, the failed investments, the workers
turned out on their ear. Don't try to sell your story,
but make sure you have a story to tell.

That first interview is crucial. Show them
you're not a monster but a man. A monster doesn't care - a man
makes mistakes, has made mistakes. You admit mistakes were made.
You're only human and you got things wrong.

And as for your latest bonus: you offered to return it,
but the company said no. So what you're going to do is,
you're donating it instead. (Animal rescue, flower shows. A hospital?)
But for this interview, you wouldn't have told a soul.

Remember contrition? Now you have to show it. The interview
is hard for you, and by the end you're dabbing at your eyes.
The public will swallow any grade of bullshit
that is packaged with a redemptive tear.

Credit note: This is a new and previously unpublished poem.

Tim says: You might think that this poem is inspired by recent events, but I couldn't possibly comment.

Credit note: "Jump In The Fire" was first published in my third poetry collection, Men Briefly Explained.

Tim says: I guess this poem has its origins in the garden waste fires Dad used to build when I was young, fires with a flammable core surrounded by turf that were designed to burn at a low heat for a long time so that we could load on more grass, branches etc as we worked on our large and unruly garden - this was when we lived in Otatara, south of Invercargill, in the late 1960s. Somewhere along the way, a sport of book-burning seems to have attached itself to the concept.